


Fleeting Hopes to Weaker Dreams

by CityOfScreams



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Depressed Spock, Kid Spock, M/M, Sarek has OCD, Teen Sybok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-09-23 16:40:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20343292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CityOfScreams/pseuds/CityOfScreams
Summary: Given a single moment Spock will take to the desert like it his own home, and not the dangerous wilderness. Yet with his brother imprisoned, he must return home and find a way of clearing his name... or freeing him .Clearing an innocent person of murder would be hard, but clearing a person the evil government has a personnel vendetta against is a whole different thing.Slight AU since the vulcan governments secretly evil (capitalism is evil plot, began the story with a type of fight club like essence but without the multiple personalities) not very accurate but, like if you could squint and adjust some minor environmental detail could happen in real trek universe.Should eventually meat up with normal timeline-isakirks in it as a main character but he introduced in chapter 20. lmao idk





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1  
Silence after Screaming is a Feeling

It was the coldest part of the night goosebumps had gathered on his bare arms like happy friends again, fresh air combing the way through the right side of his black hair, the left side resting on the top of his eyebrow. The moon lit the sand up a bright yellow, and the yellow glow lit the desert up, the sand dune beneath him, the mountains to the west, the cactus forest to the east, to the south the endless desert going flatter and flatter, and in the distant north from whence he came, where he was born, where he would die, the city. This cool air was a relief cooling his head and healing the burns, on the palms of his hands. He faced them up to the stars, the little circles shaped like the desert sun he dealt with. He gazed at the moon, and the moon gazed sorrowfully back, its expression neither happy nor purposefully sad that was simply how she looked. He would head back tomorrow. He’d give them one more chance, a chance to apologise a chance to act different, a chance to change.

A hand emerged from the sand beside him grasping for the air around it, he watched uncaring as the second hand appeared and he pulled himself out from where he was buried deep. Brother Sybok birthed himself from the dune, clothed in cream coloured robes, his hair was shoulder length the ends stylishly curled, he dusted the sand from his eyes. He patted the sand from his clothes, and he patted the uneven mess he had made with the sand beside himself.  
“Good evening to you too” Sybok said as he tilted his head a little, the way the royals do.  
“I’m sorry.”  
“Oh, come on Spock, just once I wish you’d start our conversations with something else. For starters you could say, hey Sybok today I ate a whole bird without even plucking it.”  
“Hey Sybok, today I ate a whole bird, and I almost chocked to death on it. I threw its feathered corpse up on the ground and I had to suck the blood I could out from my spit, and pull its flesh from it’s bones, and after all that my stomach still stabs me. I should have cooked the bird, but I was taken in the moment I had caught it with my hands and I wanted to devour it hole. I thought that would feel good, satisfy me, but now I’ll be hungry until I walk home without any fresh meat for my dinner.”  
“I know buddy” he said and put his arms around him, his face in his shoulder, he remembered that he used to be able to feel the warm breath from him, and sometimes he’d wipe bogeys on his shoulder. Such unvulcan behaviour. Tonight he put his hand up to touch those sweat filled curls.  
“I’m going to make everything right. I’m going to fix it, I’m going to save you.” He said, his eyes reflected the moon as he looked for hope, looked for something, a sign he was on the right track.  
“Please don’t” Sybok said “I did what I had to for you. Please do not let that be a waste.”  
“It hasn’t been that long. Not even decades would be that long, and nothing is a waste for you.”  
“It is a waste to take a meaning I gave to you and throw it away.”  
“I didn't like it, I’d rather share a new meaning with you.”  
“Things are like that sometimes. You are young and naive.”  
“It’s true, and I know it will be hard work to free you, I know I will jeopardise my life and yours forever and that we will have to be something else when we grow taller, but I know that whatever I am wherever I am, I’d much rather do it with you in the world, is it not like you said? You cannot put a price on a life.”  
“Everything is worthless.”  
“Without you I’ll be worth the less.”  
Sybok rubbed at the corner of his eye “you can fail, what you’re about to do can set in motion a series of events that will kill me, and what will you do then? Skip to the ending my baby brother, pretend I have died, what will you do without me?”  
“Revenge you I suppose.”  
“You are a peaceful boy.”  
“Then I suppose I return here” he said as he picked up a handful of sand and slowly let it fall, the sand slowly blew threw the air, and as though it was directing him it went north.  
“A life alone is one no better spent than in prison.”  
“If that is how you phrase it. I’d enjoy a life of solitude, no voice but my own, at times I work hard but always I am free unwatched by strangers with their cameras, and government experimentees; no passing scientist will spray me with chemicals and watch as I unpaid suffer the consequences of it and my medical health; I will not be used for what I do not want; I will not be bred like cattle, and my mind will always be free.”  
“You’ll die young.”  
“Perhaps, and perhaps for the best. Or perhaps I’ll invite a few to join me, and I’ll teach them how to live out here.”  
“If there are too many of you they’ll hunt you down, like un-mined gold, or a plague.” Sybok said. Spock stood up on the sand and turned to the west, where high mountains narrowly missed the stars.  
“It’s getting late. I must sleep for the night, in the morning I will return to my fathers home.”  
“Must you?” His brother asked and gently took him by the wrist “or you could live here and you could be happy, and you only need to return when you no longer find your happiness here.”  
“Your time is limited, and my happiness is tied to you” he said and put a hand upon his shoulder “I’d like to try and help you first, and after that I’ll let the desert show me meaning. The desert has always helped me and it will always be here for me, I would like to be there for you.”  
Sybok put his hand up to the thin cheeks of his little brother as he began to fade into the night sky.   
“Oh, what a fool you are.”


	2. The Way Out of This Desert

The Way Out of This Desert

Those who know are few and far between, they are often old from a once taught skill that has been left to freely die with the aged. It wasn’t a skill you could write and study at, and there was no chance of a map. What was one to do? Marking out the boulders and grains of sand was an impossibility, to learn the desert there was only one way to do it, you open yourself to it and prepare to die. Preparing for death was never enough, usually worn ruff hands would scramble over mountain cliffs crippled people with dehydrated kidneys would cry out until the few rations they kept were gone, then either they would know, or they would die. Everything you could need was in the desert, a healthy balanced meal, clean water, shade, shelter and regular showers. It would have been flooded with hikers had any phones worked there, but there was none that could. Some say the mountains gods would not allow weakness and communication to come forth, most agree that it’s the minerals in the un-mineable mountains. It used to be folks would practice the kans-wans, but no one dared attempt it now. Over the years two hundred vehicle and one specially created desert vehicle that was more clock work than ship had attempted to cross the land, and all but the one was destroyed. The last hadn’t been destroyed but the people inside had been caught by the dangerous wildlife, so soon afterwards all vehicles had been banned from this desert they called The Forge. Ships and helicopters were too afraid to fly around where the mountain minerals would crash them. There was still tourists. They’d hike three days in, three days out, they’d stay away from the mountains, sometimes going as far to use string to mark the way, if not for them on the way out, for any who’d come looking for them, had they accidentally twisted an ankle, or had a desert beast feast upon them.

T'gai Schn, also known as Spock, knew the desert better than he knew himself. The first time he had entered the desert he did not care if he came out, he went in with six litres of water enough to ensure no one would find him, and nothing else but a sharp knife. It was a painful weight on his shoulder but he did not care about it. The things he did now was what he did then, and it was always the same. He’d start of slowly walking the evening and sleeping in the mornings, the second day he’d occasionally jog in the evening, on the third morning he’d pass by prickly pears and he’d pick some fruit or leaves. The forth day he’d finish his rations and spend the whole night jogging. The fifth day he’d climb a mountain. When he did this the first time he was prepared to die in the mountain, there would either be a creature up in the caves that would quickly kill him or he could finish himself off, whether by blade or jumping off, but halfway up the mountain he found a cave, and it had a small waterfall that trickled deep into an underground river, all of it was easy to reach, but only from this cave. No person in their right mind would plan to take the desert on without rations, or a tent, without enough water to come back, and no one jogged on the desert. The terrain was too rough, a twisted ankle, a step on a snake, a fall down a cliff or an encounter with a desert beast would easily leave them dead. Yet T'gai always came back. He always entered at the same place and he always knew what he walked towards, as easily as any who knew where they were to bury their own body. T'gai had been lucky, his feet were small, his body young and flexible, his reactions quicker than any adults, he had grown to be a part of the desert, and one day he’d forget what allowed him to survive in this desert, and the desert would not forgive him.

He slept in that cave, on top of a chair he had pulled from a broken down jeep and he used an old dead woman’s coat as a light blanket. He always slept with his shoes on, incase he needed to depart quickly. When noon came, he moved the coat off himself pulled off his shoes and socks. He drunk water from the cold falling stream, before he rinsed off his face, and feet. He washed out both sides of his socks. When you use your feet for transportation in and out of hell, you must regularly see that they are kept well. The waterfall went down to what almost seemed like a second floor, where it met the river, where fishes swam. Two years ago he finally brought enough rope with him to create his own rope ladder. The end of the blue roped always hung down, the top was tied to a large fat jagged bit of rock. He had checked the sturdiness of the rock by jumping on top of it, and it seemed good. If the rope ladder ever broke he knew he could still climb out himself, but he knew the rope ladder made his trip safer.

There was one other thing that made T'gai use this cave as his home, there was a door in, and there was a second cave door out to what he had named (whilst reading his fantasy novel) the courtyard. The mountain he was in, was one of four that combined together to make a circle, and in the centre of this circle the tips of each mountain did not connect. This meant that when T'gai walked out through the second door, he walked deeper into the mountains, where the sun shone indoors to meet the desert sand. T'gai had put a see-through umbrella, decorated with a few colourful dots over the top of this hole. It made sunlight a little less strong, but still light enough for plants to grow, and he did grow a lot of plants.

In this part of the cave, T'gai had created his own small farm. Originally starting with just three buckets, he now had twenty buckets of growing plants. He had plastic tubes leading from the falling waterfall to his plants, to ensure they were constantly watered, even when he wasn’t around. Technically he didn’t need to, he could find enough food in the desert to last him each day, but in the winter, and when his feet hurt, and when other parts of his body hurts for reasons other than the desert, he likes the food he grows. Root vegetables were the easiest as he didn’t have to pollinate them by hand. He had five sweet potato plants, three buckets full of plomeeks, three tomato plants, two avocados trees, and two apple trees. He had just finished picking the last of the apples just three days ago. He left himself several fresh apples to eat today and on the way back home, the others he had left out to dry. This morning T'gai picked up his last tray of drying apples and poured them into a black bin bag. Which he put in a plastic box, and stacked in the main cave with his six other boxes of dried food. He liked looking at all his food. Made him feel safe, good and happy. He had dried jerky from a whole mix of animals, he had dried potatoes, but mostly he had dried apples.

It was afternoon, but on a day when you head back afternoon means breakfast. He turned his gas stove on as he put a pot on to boil his water, the gas was relatively cheap and the easiest thing to light. He harvested a large sweet potato, three plomeeks, two avocados (there was a lot of them and T'gai had no idea how to save the avocados. He cleaned up his vegetables and boiled his plomeeks and potatoes, as he waited for them he cut up his avocados using his small knife. The blade was four inches long small thin, easy to use for cutting or stabbing, the handle was black and blue carefully decorated. He placed the avocado slices in his lunch box. When the vegetables were cooked he forked the vegetables potatoes and plomeeks out putting them in his lunch box, he added cold water to his pot and watered his trees with it, apparently that was good fertiliser for them. He warmed up his tomatoes, added them to his meal and enjoyed his breakfast, followed by two apples with some of his secret peanut butter. He knew this would be one of his last big meals for a while, and although he had the supplies, they were easier to carry in his stomach.

He put some more potatoes on to boil as he decided to gather everything else he would need for his return trip. His three water bottles containing six litres of water, ten avocados and ten apples. When his potatoes are cooked he uses his spoon to take out all the insides and squish it into his lunch box, on top of his potatoes he squeezes a layer squashed tomatoes. That would be his dinner and breakfast tomorrow. His lunch would be one apple. It usually kept him comfortable until the end of the third day, although he had recently been finding the avocados helpful in stopping the hunger. He had previously tried carrying something lighter, biscuits and peanut butter, but that managed to leave him thirsty, and if you ate them while dehydrated it was like chewing on splinters, not to mention the heavy jar of peanut butter was hard to run with, by the time T'gai got home the only thing he’d be carrying was three completely shrunk down water bottles, and three avocados, unless he ate them. He always planned to return some of his food home, but when a significant amount of your meal plan involved three apples and two avocados, sometimes, he ate his extra food. He doesn’t bring anything to cook with, he leaves all of his other belongings in this cave, and if someone else were to walk unto this cave, they were free to have a few spare rations and borrow his gas. He’s not a greedy boy after all. When he leaves the sun is still bright, it’s the perfect light to climb down from these mountains that are full of jagged and unforgiving splintered edges.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .... yeah I'm sure folks could defiantly grow avocados in the vulcan desert, sign the complaints below  
also tell me if its boring


	3. The affair will take my skin and I cannot wait

Chapter 3  
The affair will take my skin and I cannot wait.

Spock steps out of his desert and his quiet mind and little peace shudders as though a physical force is torn from his body. He heads for the corner store. With every step his skin tingles and cries, not with burns or blister but it mourns it’s leaving, a day, a week and hour all too long, his skin is cursed for the desert only. Those glass doors parted ways for him, as he entered the shop that unpolitely blew him with artic air. It nearly sent him into shock and his legs turned to stone as he waddled to the front counter where the shop clerk had just left. Sustin had walked towards the fridge and was already bringing back a bottle of cool water for him.  
“I really don’t think thats good for you” Sustin said “that’s one credit.” S'chn held his thumb out, and Austin brought the scanner to it for him, it made a long hurtful squeak, not like the comforting beep that would accept his payment. Sustin averted his eyes for a muffled second.  
“It’s okay. Take it anyway” Sustin said and passed the bottle over to him.  
“I’ll pay you back” he said cracking the lid to finally ease his violin throat.  
“You always do” he nodded, with his gaze staring down with pity, if only pity helped, instead it only shares that suffocating feeling back to him. He wished for the desert.  
“Thank you.” S'chn said because he understood that Sustin could not be blamed for having pity, even if was so easily read across his face, and even if he did not like sharing it’s effects.  
“I’ve - I’ve got a shed at the bottom of my garden, it needs doing up but if you wanted to you could live there. It’s far enough away that I can pretend like I don’t see you going in it.” S'chn gave the man the eye contact he deserved, he had been coming here on the brink of death for years, but today he had been too easy to read, and with those news articles laying around… Change was on the corner. Unfortunately not for this corner store, for his offer of help came years too late, he’d made up his mind. Sustin could read the boy, like an owner who sees their old pet dog one morning, and despite the lack of change in their behaviour, knows it’s time left for the world is short.  
“Thank you for the offer, however I will decline, I am heading straight for my fathers home.”  
“The offers still up if you ever change you mind, and if you do change your mind, it’ll be better if you don’t give me a heads up” he says. S'chn nods, one persons skin to another nothing is worth a risk, and not enough to put ones whole foot and body forth, only bread scraps tossed his way.

A forty minute walk took you to the perfect view of the bustling city, but kept you far enough on the outskirts that houses full of children yelling could still be heard, especially these vulcan ones. Flats and houses, with huge paths bordered by football fields to his right, to the left there was mostly flats with parks full of fruiting cacti, and a little closer to the city the flats became more compact, and the gardens disappeared, and as soon as you’ve walked far enough in, that your view of the gardens are blocked with towering buildings, you’ll find S'chn’s home. Up a rusty elevator to the very top, where these outside views were the only good place to stop, drink and smoke. He could see over the buildings he had walked past, the gardens and the football fields and in the distant the desert. None of the windows inside his flat had these same views. The architect of this building was incompetent fool. He takes the key from under the rug and opens up the door.

There were viewing windows, a windowsill big enough to sit on, square windows to see all that there was, but all that there was in this particular location was another building. That was the view from the front door, a hat stand for coats, two white sofas facing each other around a rectangular coffee table, and then the windows. From ceiling, to waist height, not Schn’s waist, maybe an average sized person. The house was a lot cleaner than he’d ever seen it, although for some reason Father had left mothers smoking ash in the ash trays. Should have thrown the ash trays away. The furthest room on the right was his, in the corner was the bathroom, and next to that was his parents room. He walked forwards into the living room, and looked up to the kitchen, there didn’t seem to be anyone here. He took four more steps to the left and opened the first left door to the office, the neatest room in the house, full of books and important documents, a work desk a laptop and Daisy. Daisy was a little robot, shaped like a cat, walked like a cat, did not talk like a cat, and really, she didn’t look like one either, she used to but the smoke and ash had ruined her coat and now she walks around naked, metal.  
“Is Dad in Daisy?”  
“Good evening S'chn, there is currently no one in the house.” Daisy said, horrible little thing. He left the office and went to the only other room in the house, next to the office, his brothers, he put his hand on the door for a moment, and then gently pushed it open. It was tidy today, most things were still missing, his collections of knifes he crafted by hand. None of them had anything to do with the crime he committed, he was an artist, he crafted blades for other people, he did not use them.  
“You’re not allowed in here” said that half fleshed out beast.  
“Shut up” S'chn said angrily and kicked Daisy in the face, Daisy cried out and ran back to her charging station, right past his fathers feet.  
“Sa’mekh.”  
“Spock” he said taking a breath, as he settles his brown briefcase on to the wooden floor, and quickly walks forwards to embraced his flinching son.  
“S'chn, S'chn where have you been?” Father said down on his knees as he wiped the dust from around the boys dark eyes.

He pulled out the chair from the kitchen island, determined to chat to his child, and do right from the wrong. He went to the fridge and took out a carton of milk, and from the cupboard he took a glass and a brand new box of strawberry milk powder. He pushed them towards his son as he pulled up a chopping board from a counter below him.  
“Milk? What am I five?”  
“You are a growing boy.”  
“I’m doing anything but growing” S'chn said as his father sighed.  
“Thats why I gave you the milk.”  
“It’s not too expensive is it?” He asked sarcastically, but catching another look from his Father he pulled the milk over to himself “but I’ll drink it.”  
“What do you want to eat?” Father asked, as S'chn pulled a teaspoon from the pot beside himself to heap the pink powder into his milk.  
“Anything but apples, avocados and sweet potatoes.”  
“You are the only person in the world who could ever get any of those foods in this vulcan desert Those plants are as much a miracle as you…”  
“Veggie burgers and plomeek?”  
“Sounds good.”  
S'chn had a lot of questions he wanted to ask, could he depend on regular meals being in the fridge, the cheekiest question being a request for pocket money. What happened to his brother? Was there any news, had anything new happened? He already knew the answers. He let dinner be what it was peaceful. He drunk his milk and decorate the burgers from his chair with buns and salad, as his father finished frying the plomeek, and then they ate in silence. His father must have had the same idea as him, to just leave the questions for today, because he stayed silent, and he didn’t try any questions or say anything awkward, and for a long time in a while S'chn enjoyed the meal with his Father and it was the first time that he could remember that his skin stopped trying to run back to that deadly desert sand. He went to bed early with some water as he was tired, he said goodnight to Father, and his Father turned without hesitating or pretending not to hear and said goodnight to him. He cried before passing out.


	4. A storm on the horizon is a beautiful sight.

Chapter 4  
A storm on the horizon is a beautiful sight.

Heavy beats played out from the small tv screen buried within the bookcase. The two white sofas were pushed further out, and the glass coffee table was pushed far back. This time in the morning was the only the time the view was good, the bright orange sun gliding and shining off and around the building outside, golden hour the artists call it, and he half believed that it would make even a murder scene beautiful. He stretched down to his right to touch his toes, and then his left.  
“Oh, morning.” Father said coming out of the office, S'chn jumped and hit the remote silencing it.  
“I didn’t know you were home still.”  
“Yes. I’ve been starting work later, change in schedules, feels a bit more manageable like this. What are you doing?”  
“Stretching.”  
“Don’t you usually do that in your room?”  
“Yes. I can move. My room was covered in dust and it was clean out here-“  
“Spock it’s fine. Carry on, just move the seat back afterwards. Would you like tea?” He asked as he turned the kettle on.  
“Yes please.” He said as he turned the sound back on, putting the volume down a little.  
“You know why your rooms dusty?”  
“No?”  
“You come in caked in sand. Used to think it was your mothers smoking ash but all this time it’s just been you.”  
“I’ve showered and changed” Spock said as he brought his white ankled sock up to meet his head, while balancing on one leg.  
“Yeah well all the other times you’ve come home and gone to bed has already put so much sand in your room it’s almost impossible to clear out. I wanted to hoover it but the only thing I’ve learnt about you, is that I must not go into your space, and for some reason that includes to hoover up your dusty room.”  
“Uh huh.” S'chn said as he exchanged the leg he was balancing on “thats right.”  
“You know you’re still in the school system right? Could you turn up to that?” He asked pouring boiling water onto the minty tea bag.  
“Not today, I’m still dehydrated.”  
“Your dehydrated, and yet you’re doing that, what is that the splits?”  
“No this is the splits” S'chn said as he slid down on to the floor.  
“Well, okay.” His father said wide eyed “still exercise.”  
“It’s stretching, its good for you, stops me accidentally tearing muscles, you know something I wouldn’t want to do in the middle of a desert. Besides I’m not exactly working up a sweat.”  
“You ever pulled a muscle like that before?” His father asked concernedly as he picked up his travel mug.  
“I didn’t learn to do the splits deliberately if thats what your asking.”  
“You know I wasn’t. Fine, but at least try and take out half the desert in your room.”  
“But it’s decor.”  
“S'chn!”  
“I will clean it up, Sir!”  
“Hmm, I’m sure, I’ll be back at eight tonight” Father said as he walked over and picked up his briefcase “please be here.”  
“Bye” S'chn called as he waited for the door to click as he left, when he had, he turned the volume back up on the tv and walked over to the kettle to collect his tea. He looked across the kitchen his cup, or one lone forgotten tea bag, but he couldn’t find one his father had taken out for him. It shouldn’t have been that big of a deal, he could make his own tea. He took his blue cup from the cupboard, and set it down on the side, he was about to add an extra tea bag when he noticed one already in there. Confused, he stretched up on to his tip toes and checked the other cups for tea bags, but they were all empty. This was just his father being clumsy, he had intended to make him tea, this was not purposefully malicious. He hit the kettle on to reboil, as he pushed away stupid water droplets that insisted on forming in the corner of his eyes. Was this all a charade? It was a tempting feeling, to be naive enough to pretend things could be like this forever, or even a few months, still, it couldn’t be when his brother was locked away and innocent.

Those cruel nicknames, those horrid jokes and stupid teasings all those bullies, how right they had been, S'chn thought as he tied up a black bin sack full of five hoovering’s of his bedroom. He really was Dusty. Thats what they called him. How he even thought he could deny it he couldn’t remember. It wasn’t even a bad thing. He closed the lid of the big green bin, like someone closes a finished book. He pondered what he would do, he was still in his gym gear, three quarter leggings and a white t-shirt his black running trainers slipped on. Not the ones he used in the desert. They were the same type and colour, but he had discovered he needed a pair of city only trainers, or the eroding desert sand would make him look poorer than he was. S'chn wondered if he should walk around and look for work, or maybe try and brake into the prison to see his brother again, but he wasn’t really feeling it. Today was his rest day. Before he did these desert walks he’d never stop picking up odd tasks but now he found the need for leisure more than ever. Was it because his bones were worn, or because he had experienced the simple pleasure of everyday existing? He didn’t know. He decided to head to the library and to pick up a couple of books.

Where films failed, where art faltered, and songs dispersed there were books. With a full library you could see from anyones eyes, the rich, the poor, bugs, gods or aliens. You could be a bystander or a human playing a central role. Words were there for what films couldn’t monologue, or maybe they could but were too cowardly to do so. How else could you feel the coolness of a waterfall, when you were hot and sweaty? How else could you open your mouth and have droplets jump from the water to the corner of your eyes and not care of it? How else could you sit upon your knees your eyes open to your torn t-shirt and feel over whelming horror, as you wish to feel sickness, but you cannot with you stomach and guts in front of you, you wonder if you should scrape them back inside, but you know it won’t do any good. Words. S'chn wondered if he could use them as a weapon, once, but words were what they had always been, fun and pathetic. Anything that could be said with words could be said better with silence, and what silence does not solve violence can. So Sebastian was lucky Spock was on an emotional high, when he came along and roughly patted his hair. His hair rained dust down upon his book. He frowned and dusted it to one side.  
“Spock! Boy I thought you’d actually gone an died this time.” He said clapping the dust off his own hands.  
“Keep wishing.”  
“I’ve never wished” the red headed boy said “I mean you might be a bit of a wanker, but I need my science partner.”  
Sebastian took the seat on the opposite side of the library table and sprawled down, his elbow over the tops of nearby chairs.  
“Do you know how much homework I need to catch up on?” Spock asked.  
“Geee.. Let me think…. when did you last show up?”  
“I don’t know that’s why I was asking you.”  
“Boy I can’t remember the lessons I show up to! I don’t know when you were last there, could be freaking last year for all I know. I mean, I know some days when I hung out with you, but you ain’t always in class on those days- why aren’t you in school?”  
“I just got back. I’m heading back home to read these books at home, as soon as my legs start working sitting down was a mistake.” He sighed and closed the book.  
“I mean, I guess thats a good enough reason.”  
“Can you carry me home?” He asked, he already knew the answer and he said as though he thought he may as well throw the question out there.  
“Your violent arse? If I try to pick you up will you punch me in the face?”  
“It’s an automatic reaction and its a good one, keeps me safe.”  
“No one wants to kidnap you, so it’s going to be a hard no on that one, I’m not picking you up.”  
“Can you grab a wheelchair and cart me home?”  
“Can you really not move?” Sebastian asked with a squint  
“I dunno know what I’ve done.” Spock mumbled ashamedly.  
“Hmm, thats real hard Spock, allow me to suggest a possibility, six day desert run?”  
“I wasn’t running consecutively.”  
“And yet I still feel like its connected. Come on then I’ll help you out, you can lean on me.” Sebastian said as he stood up and walk back round to him.  
“Get me a wheelchair.”  
“Boy you got legs, come on” Sebastian picked up Spock’s rucksack for him. He picked S'chn up and put one arm around his shoulder, and one around his waist. He lifted, and S'chn wobbly stood.  
“Well at this rate it’ll take ten hours but I’ll get you home bud” he said and took a step. S'chn screamed and grabbed on to his stomach as he keeled over on the library floor.  
“Argh” S'chn grabbed his stomach and cried.  
“Shhhhhuush” an angry librarian hissed through the books.  
“Oh. Yeah, shit man you seem really fucked up I’ve never seen you do that before. We- we’re borrow a wheel chair ain’t it lucky we run into each other huh?”  
“I haven’t done anything today.” Spock insisted.  
“Your state would disagree.” Sebastian said, as he left him on the floor to take one of the wheelchairs near the entrance “oi mate, alright if I take this for my mate? Promise I’ll return it to you.”  
“Who’s that?” One librarian asked.  
“Sebastian, he wants it for Spock” said another librarian.  
“Spock? He walked in here fine.” The other librarian hissed, before her head popped round one of the corners to inspect him. Spock was trying to pull himself up into a sitting position one hand round his waist. Her face slowly became concerned, with that hint of pity he was so used to seeing from them, but only a little, she hardly cared about his well being, and that was usually a relief. She walked over and crouched by him. Spock clenched his own fists and leaned as far away from the librarian as she could.  
“Did that boy hit you Spock?”  
“No. I was walking a lot yesterday, and when I sat down today I couldn’t stand back up.”  
“Oooh, got those old marathon legs boy. Sebastian, you can take the chair, but I want it back by tonight. I know where you live.”  
“All this, and I’m just doing a favour for him!”  
“Take the chair Sebastian don’t give me nonsense about Spock returning it.”

He pushed the chair along dusted paths, the golden sun shining down upon them, the sun always seemed gold were the sand was. Spock sat with one hand around his waist, the other under his chin.  
“So you’re really hurt?”  
“I dunno, maybe I’m just hungry. It’s hard to stand when your hungry. Don’t start thinking anything though.”  
“Yeah, but you usually know thats hunger mate. I was wondering, maybe we’d go to school tomorrow? It could be fun.”  
“Fun? Sebastian either my Father’s put you up to this or you’ve hit your head.”  
“Rude. It’s so hard to speak to you like this. New invention, wheel chairs you push from the side.”  
“Wow, your so smart Jose, but why not go one step further? Wheelchairs that push themselves.”  
Sebastian gasped “hey, no jokes we could actually be on to something here now all we need to do is find someone to sell our idea to.”  
Spock faced his head up as he turned look towards Sebastian’s freckled face “you know.. electric wheel chairs are already a thing.”  
“Oh” Sebastian said utterly deflated, and then motioned at Spock with his hand “face forwards I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”  
Spock laughed as he resumed his sitting position “why do you want to go school anyway?”  
“There giving out eggs tomorrow to couples, I thought we could be a couple, seems believable enough I would think.”  
“Mmmm, I like your thinking I could really go for a fried egg right now.”  
“Spock you fucking psycho, I’m not talking about eating the egg I’m talking about passing one science course. It’s the easiest one there is. Besides aren’t you vegan?”  
“If my Dad asks.”  
“If… Spock you cannibal. You cannot eat your child, but goddamn am I hungry.”  
“You can have lunch with me at home now.”  
“Oh.. No I don’t know-”  
“Mothers dead, plus we can bulk our lunch up with avocados fresh from the desert.”  
“Your trees fruited?” Sebastian faked a fake gasp, because truly he was surprised.  
“Yeah. I literally have too much food to eat at home. I mean, if only someone would join me in the desert.”  
“I’m not running in the desert.”  
“I’m not walking a whole week and a half in the desert. Besides, I know your better at running than me.”  
“Are you going to help me raise a child or not?” Sebastian asked  
Spock sighed “I do need a weeks rest, and I need to pick up some more supplies …so I guess I’ll help you.”  
“Oh thank you kind one. Hey, I just had a better idea.”  
“What’s that?”  
“You take an old polaroid camera and photograph the egg in the middle of desert, then you just leave it in the middle of the desert.”  
Spock giggled “that’s a fail for sure.”  
“Oh but what a way to fail!” Sebastian grinned.


	5. Oh this little thing?

Chapter 5  
Oh this little thing?

Lunch was a joy, even with whatever cramps it was he was experiencing, they ate avocado toast with egg, and on the television they watched silly cartoons, full of colours and ridiculous super powers. The room was mostly empty, and fresh air came in through the open windows, a welcome change.  
“Do you want to watch another?” Sebastian asked, pushing Spock’s fringe off his sweaty forehead and away from his eyes.  
“We could do, I like this.”  
“Yeah, me too. You know you don’t ever have to go back to that desert now. If you wanted to you could just stay here with me. We could even study like real people.”  
“It’s tempting. But I can’t leave my brother, you know he didn’t do it right?”  
“You shouldn’t convince people he didn’t do it” Sebastian warned.  
“Why’s that?”  
“Because I know who did do it.”  
“You think I killed my own mother?” Spock challenged.  
“No. I know you didn’t, but it’s not like your brother was free from crime, I mean. He had a cult S'chn, he was going to blow up the government.”  
“So? Maybe that was a good thing, besides he wouldn’t be in prison if… if they didn’t think he murdered someone.”  
“Thats not true. He would be. He’s got too many priors from attacking other kids, usually ones that were younger than him.”  
“Thugs and bullies you know they deserved it.”  
“He’s a known thief and emotional, you’ve got to have logic. Thats what everyone thinks around here anyway. People don’t like logic spitters, they don’t like smart people and they really don’t like your Father.”  
“But… he’s still alive. There has to be a way for me to get him out.”  
“Do you really think proving him innocent of the murder will help him? Because if I have to find the real murderer for you, I will.”

Spock sighed as he leant back into the comfy white sofa as he closed his eyes for a moment “no. They’ve been trying to get him for ages. They kept planting fake evidence on him, heroin you know? Sybok would have told me if he was doing that, he only smoked a little weed, he didn’t really have money for it. He told me never to take any drugs because all but weed could kill me in an instant. Still I gave him cash as a birthday present last year, and we both went on to the roof at midnight to smoke and watch the stars.”  
“Boy you’ve been smoking?”  
“Blazing it. Nah, well I did, but I ain’t even like it that much with all that hype I thought it would at least be something good.”  
“Then I won’t waste my money” Sebastian said and grinned.  
“You do have a good point though, even with his innocence, now that they’ve got him behind bars they wont let him go.”  
“You know… he’d want you to be happy. He want to you to live as normally as you could. He wouldn’t want you prison braking him.”  
Spock nodded “he’d want me carrying on like normal?”  
“Thats what he said to you the last time he saw you isn’t it?”  
Spock grinned “oh I see. I get it- ow!” He grabbed on to his stomach his eyes tightly closed for a second as he breathed carefully.  
“Spock? Hey are you okay? Hey someone didn’t attack you did they? You can tell me.”  
“No, no.” Spock said and took a breath “I don’t know its just my stomach.”  
“Maybe you’ve got something. You do look like shit.”  
“Aw cheers mate you knob.”  
“Hey, you do, you’re sweaty. You look like a damn rat.”  
“It’s hot in here.”  
“It’s not hot. It’s actually really nice, I think your Dad finally got air conditioning.”  
“Oh, so thats where the life insurance went.”  
Sebastian laughed “Spock, you can’t be saying that, I’m sure. Actually you’re probably right.”  
“I don’t mind I think it’s the best thing he’s ever spent money on. Here. Help me up.”  
“Where you going babe?”  
“Bed, I can’t be asked dealing with this I’m just going to sleep it out.”  
“Yeah thats fair” Sebastian said and quickly jumped to his feet in front of Spock. 

Spock was attempting to stand with one arm on the sofa, and the other around his stomach.  
“You know what sweetie, don’t even worry about using legs” Sebastian said, and in one quick swoop he picked Spock right up, one arm behind his back the other under his knees.”  
“Oh my god.” Spock said bringing his fists up to his chest.  
“Don’t punch me! Don’t punch me you stupid bitch. Okay. See, and you say your tiny stature has no benefits.”  
“Oh my god” Spock said again as Sebastian carried him across to his bedroom, and over to his bed.  
“Bloody clean in here mate.”  
“Thanks I hoovered” Spock said as Sebastian dropped him on to the bed and a cloud of dust raised into the air. Spock gasped slightly holding his stomach.  
“Didn’t clean your sheets though did ya?”  
“No… do you think I should have?  
“Hmm” Sebastian said as he hit the dust of his own clothes “yeah, maybe get that next time. Hold on a second.” Spock watched and waited as Sebastian walked out the room and made some frightening banging sounds outside. He walked back in a few moments later carrying two glasses of water, he put them on the empty bedside next to him.  
“An actual angel.”  
“Sure am” Sebastian said and he quickly leaned down and kissed his forehead. Spock stared with wide eyes and ready fists that were far too slow to stop him.  
“Bro could you not.”  
“I’m kissing you better” he said exasperated “and I’ll tuck you in too.”  
“Please don’t” Spock said as Sebastian picked up a blanket and put it on top off him.  
“Aww, do you not want me to tuck you in?” Sebastian joked as he lightly prepared to burrito fold him.  
“No really you’re going to give me a panic attack.” He said shutting his eyes tightly.  
“Well it’s a good thing too because blankets aren’t good for fevers” Sebastian said standing upright and immediately throwing it to one side “or I think so anyway? I don’t know you’d have to look it up.”  
“Ok.”  
“Goodnight my sweet angel” Sebastian said and leant down and kissed his forehead again as Spock tried to hit him.  
“Oh bog off” Spock said angrily, despite the fact he was grinning  
“I’ll put the latch on the door for you ”Sebastian said as he walked out the room “but be at science tomorrow, class is at one thirty - be there.”  
“I will. I will.”


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 7  
You can judge a book by its cover, false covers are few.

He threw up that night at seven o’clock, pissed, then waddled back to his bed holding his belly. He should have know then something was wrong. When he woke at half nine, several hours later he did think that maybe, something was up, and that something was a very bad stomach bug he had probably passed to Sebastian. He drunk the last of his water and waited as he listened. He couldn’t hear anyone.  
“Dad? Did you come back?” He called, but his voice was met with silence.  
“Dad!” Silence.  
“Daisy” he called and waited, as he listened to the quiet stupid whirl of a machine as it stood up and stepped across the wooden floor. He could hear its feet squeaking, it never picked its feet up high enough. It came into his room and sat in the middle of the floor.  
“Good evening S'chn, how can I help?” The speakers said, it’s mouth opening and close ing completely out of time.  
“Is Dad back yet.”  
“No, no one else has come back home yet.”  
“Could you alert me when he arrives back?”  
“Even if you are sleeping?”  
“Yes.” He said and the cats eyes and wheels turned about “okay.”  
Spock stared at the cat until it finally stood up and walked out of his room, the door now left ajar. It didn’t matter, now, there was no one here. So he went back to sleep.

He woke like a man who’d been hit by a truck, suddenly frightened, confused, and in a lot of pain far worse than before. He gasped as he tried to get up off his bed but all he managed to do was slip and fall onto the floor, it shot pain through out his body.  
“Argh! Daisy!” He screamed, and those electronic squeaks appeared by the door.  
“Good afternoon Spock, how can I help you?”  
“Dad-”  
“Your S’mehk has not yet returned.”  
“Call an ambulance Daisy.”  
“Are you sure you would like an emergency ambulance?” Daisy asked, as spots took over Spock’s vision.  
“Yes.” He focused back on the cat, he was certain that if he fainted now he wouldn’t wake up, he needed to make sure he’d be safe first.  
“Spock you are blocked from calling any emergency services. You you have constant forgetful wounds disease. Would you like me to contact your Mother or your Father?”  
“O..” so thats what would happen, and all this time he had been pretending they’d done it to him by accident “call Sebastian Ito.”  
“Calling Sebastian Ito….” the cat said as the stars took his vision, and all that he saw was the blackness, and while he experienced the blackness, he didn’t care.

There were clips, red hair and yelling, he is flying, and he is in a screaming machine. He is carted away and someones yelling for a bastard. He is at work. He sits at this old circular table, half fallen to pieces on a thrown of tyres. His brother stands beside him, T'anp the purple haired girl beside him, Stonn the genderless one with thick grey hair spiked at messy angles stands opposite him.  
“This is it” T'anp says and places a small, thick black disk on to the table.  
“Thats the bomb?” Eino asks, T'anp nods. Spock looks Sybok in the eye and nods.  
“No” Sybok shakes his head “we can’t. There are too many people, I hate terrorism, and thats what this is. We are not blowing up the government. Do understand me T'anp?”  
“You promised the others…”Stonn mumbles.  
“We can send our message without hurting anyone. We will blow something that has meaning a sculpture, and then we’re say it, we could leave a literal letter. Spray me with chemicals without my permission one more time and I’ll spray you with bullets.”  
“Like… its literally going to be way too hard to make that many guns give a spray. At a stretch I could design three guns for you that the gov A.I’s won’t pick up on.”  
“Then don’t” Sybok said “it just sounds bad. Thats all we need. We’ve got a year until they think about trying another experiment, this way they can just stop without making it look like they’re doing it because of us.”  
“Whatever is blown up cannot be something the majority of people like” Spock said quietly “it can’t be anything that represents freedom or health.”  
Eino nods “but that’s all there is, isn’t there? Besides our freedom has been taken, so wouldn’t that make the most sense?”

There’s a hand around his, and it’s nice, a little sweaty, warm, soft unlike his sand beaten paws, there’s hair. He slowly opens his eye and he looks at a hexagon shaped red mess by his hand. He blinks until the water in his eyes disperse.  
“Hey Sea bass.”  
“Spock” he turns and grins, and the light from this hospital room is almost blinding “your finally awake sleepy head?”  
“I think. What happened?” He asks as he stretches his arms out.  
“You were late to class, and boy I knew something was up then, then I get this empty ass phone call from you, so I leg it from the class, but not before Miss T’jok tosses an egg at me and tells me to pass the homework along-”  
“Sebastian you idiot. Am I dying?”  
“What oh no. No boy you just got a broken appendix, they already removed it. You’ll be fine once you heal up.”  
“Oh.”  
“Yeah. I mean, I blame myself, I should have recognised the symptoms.”  
“Why?”  
“I mean, not two days after you left my one went, and boy they had to take that out of me. I mean unlike you I caught on to the fact something was wrong pretty quickly, because I know being in pain ain’t normal.”  
“I am but a wary adventurer, you can hardly expect me to keep an eye on all my symptoms.”  
“Eh, maybe, nurses said you were de-hydrated and under weight as well so-”  
“I’m underweight?”  
“Apparently.”  
“Huh. I thought I had a good diet.”  
“Don’t you just eat one apple occasionally?”  
“Sebastian, I eat three apples when travelling.”  
“Yeah…that sounds like where you’re going wrong.”  
“Huh… no ones ever said, I don’t think I look skinny.”  
“Can’t focus on how skinny a person is if they’re to small to see.”  
Spock frowned and nodded “but hey appendix twins” he said and high fives Sebastian. He grabbed onto Sebastian’s hand.  
“We’re being experimented on” he said through hushed teeth.  
“Ha. Come on man, you know I can’t handle that stuff” Sebastian said trying to pull his hand back, a panicked sweat quickly appearing on his forehead.  
“How many kids at school had it?”  
“Six that I know of” Sebastian said and retrieved his hand “but I wouldn’t worry about it now, your stuck in here for a week now.”  
“What? A week, but I feel great!”  
“That would be all the pain killers your on.”  
“Oh? So thats why I feel excellent?” He said and put his hands up to Sebastian.  
“No doubt” Sebastian said and put his hands up to his and took them “can you sneak me some?”  
“I have no idea what shape or form they come in. You know more than me.”  
“So in three days?”  
Spock shrugged “I guess so.”

The door to the hospital room opens as Spock’s father took two steps in and stopped with a sudden halt and air of surprise. Spock glanced back to the boys hands he was still holding,  
“We’re not being half as gay as this looks” Spock promised. His father took a slow breath.  
“It’s okay Spock. I accept you for who you are.”  
“Oh.” Spock said with the inquisitive surprise of a toddler, as he pulled back his hands to himself “but really we’re not.”  
“I’m a little a bit” Sebastian threw out.  
“Oh my god.”  
His father nodded as his eyes looked around the room for hidden cameras “whats your name?”  
“Sebastian.”  
“I accept you too then Sebastian.”  
“Oh hell yeah. I mean, thank you Sir. I am just here to pass along Spock’s homework” he said, and pulled a egg from out his pocket and placed it on Spock’s lap.  
“Is that a joke” his Father asked.  
“That is our child.” Sebastian said and made his way to leave.  
“We’re not gay. We’re barely friends.” Spock said.  
“Ah, it’s true am just his stalker.” Sebastian said as he quickly ran past, the door closing it behind him.

Father took the seat that Sebastian had been in and he sat there looking at him. Spock looked at his Father, as he picked the egg up between his hands.  
“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”  
“I don’t. You said you were coming back last night.”  
“I got held up at work.”  
“All night?” Spock asked. He sighed, as he turned to look out the window .  
“I was dying.”  
“I would have found you first.”  
Spock sighed “if this is how you want it to be, it will stay like this. I am tired of this” he said shaking his head as he looked small bedside table beside him “I could not even call an ambulance myself, the cat wouldn’t let me do it.”  
His father frowned “the cat wouldn’t let you do it?”  
“Said I had forgetful disease. I mean, I know Mom could occasionally hit me, and sometimes threw objects at me, but I never thought that was intentional. I don’t know” he said as his voice cracked “I thought maybe if I was really hurt you’d call an ambulance for me.”

He focuses on the door, pretending that there wasn’t water in the corner of his eyes, like he wasn’t always just a few seconds from tears.  
“Spock I didn’t do that. We never would, thats not how your Mothers disease worked” he said holding his child’s hand “I promise I would never do that. I should have done more to stop her. But I couldn’t let the scientists take her… you know they’d have killed her.”  
“I didn’t say that” Spock said angrily “I just want to be able to call for help if I need it.”  
“Spock I did not do that.” He said and his gaze flicked around the room “Daisy’s old, maybe she just malfunctioned.”  
“You didn’t come back last night.” Spock says as he begins to tap the egg on the bedside stand, his Father sighs.  
“I didn’t and it wasn’t because I was working.” He says ending a longer sentence as he watches Spock gently crack the egg, put it back over his lap and crush it with his hand. Smashed yolk and goo leaks through his hands and on to the bed. His father watches as his brain ticks.  
“What are you doing?” Father settles with. Spock lets out an angry breath picking up some tissues from the bedside cabinet.  
“I thought it was hard boiled.”  
“That kid said that was your child.”  
“Well I already fucking killed it-”  
“You were going to eat it.”  
Spock shrugs, and nods “yeah.”  
“You’ve failed that poor boys science experiment.”  
“… Father, can you buy me another egg?”  
“And your supposed to be vegan, why would you eat it in the first place?”  
“Your using this to deflect.”  
“What?”  
“Last night you weren’t working?”  
“I will finish what I was saying but I’m not deflecting Spock, that was the most bizarre thing I’ve ever witnessed.”  
“I need a new egg.”  
Father sighs and decides to ignore him “last night I wasn’t working. It’s been hard work these last few years and I have found my only solace in controlling my environment. I was glad when you came back but you brought in so much dirt. I was going to be a few hours late home, and I didn’t want to disturb your sleep by hoovering the house.”  
“You could have just… not hoovered.”  
“Spock I’m not being deliberately strict, or a harsh parent. I have obsessive compulsive disorder. OCD. In this case it means I like keeping my environment clean, or how I think it’s clean anyway. It was mild when your mother got ill but that completely spiralled it… I’ve tried my hardest not to go into your rooms because I know, if I do I’ll be in there cleaning constantly. I’d have hardly wanted that when I was a child.”  
“OCD? So… what your crazy?”  
“A little I guess. I think if the house isn’t clean, something bad will happen to you, so I’ll clean. I stayed at a hotel last night because it would stop me knowing what condition the house was in. If I knew it was dirty and I went to sleep anyway I was afraid you’d get ill. So I thought I’d just come back this afternoon during my lunch brake when your out the house, and I’d clean the whole thing again.”  
“Why not just clean it this morning or tonight?”  
“Because… your in the house?”  
“You used to clean when Mom went to sleep, you know… you can clean when I’m around.”  
“I guess… it’ll be a change in ritual. Spock I just want you to understand how hard this is on me, the love of my life was murdered, my son’s been imprisoned and I never know where you are, I worry all the time, and I want to get better and I want to spend all my time helping you, but I left the house dirty and now your in hospital. That’s exactly why I keep have to keep the house clean! If the house isn’t clean someone is hurt or taken from me.”  
“If the house is never clean then on the occasions that someone is hurt, the house is gonna be dirty. This is the dumbest shit, but fine. Whatever.”  
“I’m going to therapy now.. have been since last week.”  
Spock sighed “okay. It’s something I guess.”  
He rubbed his face in his hands “I know your too young to understand-”  
“I understand.. the OCD, it’s the only thing here that makes sense” they sat in silence for a moment “It’s just everything else…”


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 8  
About the egg

Father brought a new egg for him on the way home. It was brown and had dark coloured speckles on it, dark brown freckles. It resembled his other parent Sebastian in that manner. In other ways it resembled Spock. A hard ouster shell that would crack given the lightest forced, an inside off goo, that was probably bad and was sure to revolt anyone nearby. There was a lot of possibility when it came to naming their son. They decided it was a man mutually because they were both boys and would therefore only have offspring of the same gender. Sunny side up. A full three names but it was too overdone, to well heard. Grenade, was Spock’s favourite, but Sebastian begged him not to, for he knew Spock wouldn’t have the self control to hold on to it, and not yell and throw it. It had to be a name they could agree on, one that would suit him. H.A.M was what agreed upon shortening, Ham. A quick name one that showed they themselves may still eat it. H.A.M it stands for Huge Ass Meat,


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 9  
Everything new is something else old

Spock knew it had happened before he stepped in his flat, he knew from the outside flashing cars, he knew from a huddle of gossiping neighbours, he knew from concerned flashing pitying looks, and to make things worse, he knew from the laughter. He walked pass all of them. Pass the uniformed guards and drooling sehlats their corporeal being turning to a blur, cars and building sirens and sounds began to distort from his reality, a reality he wasn't fond of but knew the rules to, and then he was running. He doesn't remember the lift ride up he only remembers peg like legs waddling up to the policeman standing outside his door as he raises out a lenient arm in his direction and speaks.  
“Son, you don’t want to go in there.” It’s embedded in his memory like a last option, like he could turn now to live in the desert and everyone here could still alive, is any man dead if one does not know? How can we be alive when others do not know, and maybe being in this abyss of fake death would to be better than to face reality. Until his brother comes out. He is looking down another policeman behind his back with his hands in cuffs. This doesn’t make sense, surely they must know his mother was ill, surely they must know her days were limited and although she should have passed last year now she was gone it was good? The thought stings him, he knows this year hasn’t been her though, he knows she was once a great person, full of love and caring who would tuck him in at night and tell him not to make her silly mistakes, not to smoke, to love, never to hurt others, yet he was pleased she was gone from this world, where her mortal body could no longer destroy what her soul had meant what she had stood for and what she had wanted, for what damage her physical form had done, scars left on his arms from thrown cups that had smashed against him when she had become a fit of rage, from when she had a fit. So why was brother here. Pushed out the front door.  
“Sybok?” His voice, it’s normal, but detached from his body, he watches his own steps from another persons view.  
“Spock. I didn’t do it, do not worry I will be back as soon as they run a forensics check.” Sybok says.  
“Do what?” He asks as the policeman and Sybok begin to squeeze pass him.  
“Don’t go in there. Wait for Father.” He leaves, and it is as though he vanishes from reality. His legs are shaking and he looks at the policeman, and he steps forth to look where he had been told not to.  
“I can’t stop you” said the policeman to his back “but its a bloody mess in there. Come down with me and sit in my car.”

Ignoring him he walks into the flat, the smell is like it’s never been before, like copper, and everything is black and white, as he turns to Sybok’s bedroom, a black mountain outside his door, and this beige carped is soaked, splattered, sprayed destroyed with such a dark liquid. He’s dizzy and everything is spinning, maybe even himself. He’s furious and disgusted, someone did this. Someone did this to her, and it’s not like he could say innocently he hadn’t thought it, like he hadn’t thought about putting something in her drink. Something to let her depart in peace somewhere mind and soul could again take on the same place. This was disgusting and before he knows it he’s bent over and heaving upon the floor, he never suspected this sight would do this to him. Stabbed! Of all things this was never her fault and this was never what she deserved never the way to go. Imprisoned. Put down. Thoughts he could all half heatedly agree for, things that seemed the best known cure that was no where in the realm of possibility. This was not for the best, this wouldn’t end well. He knew this could be an ending, he could abandon his plan, but not while others like him suffered. This would complicate things, but it would stop nothing.

The rest of the days blur into one, he is crying and reading and he’s happy and reading and nothing could stop him, yet he couldn’t bare to carry on. He barely sees his father. He sticks to his room and his his office, rarely do the two connect. He sets his mind on waiting for his brother, and after three whole days he begins to worry. He takes his own hands he takes his own feet, and he speaks to father and they gather together to venture forth to prison. The last place Spock wants to be, a place he might. The guards explain the evidence isn’t enough to prove innocents, that there is evidence he did and his record would all suggest he did.  
“What evidence is there?” Spock asks interrupting his fathers conversation, but he waits for the guard to answer him. Until the policeman shrugs.  
“He was in the house with her, she was stabbed with a knife he made.”  
“He was there so he must have done it?” Spock holds his tongue “what fingerprints did you find on the knife.”  
“And unknown persons” he says.  
“Well what makes you think my son did it?” Father asks.  
“He has a history” says the man.  
“You piece of shit.” Spock snarls forcing his father to speak an age before they’re allowed to see Sybok.


	9. Everything new is something else old

Chapter 9  
Everything new is something else old

S'chn knew it had happened before he stepped in his flat, he knew from the outside flashing cars, he knew from a huddle of gossiping neighbours, he knew from concerned flashing pitying looks, and to make things worse, he knew from the laughter. He walked pass all of them. Pass the uniformed guards and drooling dogs their corporeal being turning to a blur, cars and building sirens and sounds began to distort from his reality, a reality he wasn't fond of but knew the rules to, and then he was running. He doesn't remember the lift ride up he only remembers peg like legs waddling up to the policeman standing outside his door as he raises out a lenient arm in his direction and speaks.  
“Son, you don’t want to go in there.” It’s embedded in his memory like a last option, like he could turn now to live in the desert and everyone here could still alive, is any man dead if one does not know? How can we be alive when others do not know, and maybe being in this abyss of fake death would to be better than to face reality. Until his brother comes out. He is looking down another policeman behind his back with his hands in cuffs. This doesn’t make sense, surely they must know his mother was ill, surely they must know her days were limited and although she should have passed last year now she was gone it was good? The thought stings him, he knows this year hasn’t been her though, he knows she was once a great person, full of love and caring who would tuck him in at night and tell him not to make her silly mistakes, not to smoke, to love, never to hurt others, yet he was pleased she was gone from this world, where her mortal body could no longer destroy what her soul had meant what she had stood for and what she had wanted, for what damage her physical form had done, scars left on his arms from thrown cups that had smashed against him when she had become a fit of rage, from when she had a fit. So why was brother here. Pushed out the front door a policeman behind gently walks him.  
“Sybok?” His voice, it’s normal, but detached from his body, he watches his own steps from another persons view.  
“Spock. I didn’t do it, do not worry I will be back as soon as they run a forensics check.” Sybok says.  
“Do what?” He asks as the policeman and Sybok begin to squeeze pass him.  
“Don’t go in there. Wait for Sa'mehk.” He leaves, and it is as though he vanishes from reality. His legs are shaking and he looks at the policeman, and he steps forth to look where he had been told not to.  
“I can’t stop you” said the policeman to his back “but its a bloody mess in there. Come down with me and sit in my car.”

Ignoring him he walks into the flat, the smell is like it’s never been before, like copper, and everything is black and white, as he turns to Sybok’s bedroom, a black mountain outside his door, and this beige carped is soaked, splattered, sprayed destroyed with such a dark liquid. He’s dizzy and everything is spinning, maybe even himself. He’s furious and disgusted, someone did this. Someone did this to her, and it’s not like he could say innocently he hadn’t thought it, like he hadn’t thought about putting something in her drink. Something to let her depart in peace somewhere mind and soul could again take on the same place. This was disgusting and before he knows it he’s bent over and heaving upon the floor, he never suspected this sight would do this to him. Stabbed! Of all things this was never her fault and this was never what she deserved never the way to go. Imprisoned. Put down. Thoughts he could all half heatedly agree for, things that seemed the best known cure that was no where in the realm of possibility. This was not for the best, this wouldn’t end well. He knew this could be an ending, he could abandon his plan, but not while others like him suffered. This would complicate things, but it would stop nothing.

The rest of the days blur into one, he is crying and reading and he’s happy and reading and nothing could stop him, yet he couldn’t bare to carry on. He barely sees his Sa'mehk. He sticks to his room and his his office, rarely do the two connect. He sets his mind on waiting for his brother, and after three whole days he begins to worry. He takes his own hands he takes his own feet, and he speaks to Sa'mehk and they gather together to venture forth to prison. The last place S'chn wants to be, a place he might. The guards explain the evidence isn’t enough, his record would all suggest he did it.  
“What evidence is there?” S'chn asks interrupting his Sa'mehks conversation, but he waits for the guard to answer him. Until the policeman shrugs.  
“He was in the house with her, she was stabbed with a knife he made.”  
“He was there so he must have done it?” S'chn holds his tongue “what fingerprints did you find on the knife.”  
“And unknown persons” he says.  
“Well what makes you think my son did it?” Sa'mehk asks.  
“He has a history” says the man.  
“You piece of shit.” S'chn snarls forcing his Sa'mehk to speak an age before they’re allowed to see Sybok.


	10. A task done without a second thought, isn’t hard at all.

Chapter 10  
A task done without a second thought, isn’t hard at all.

On the day he was released he had a bad feeling. He wore the clothes Sa'mehk had brought new for him, and he carried a book Sa'mehk had brought for him, these past few days had reconnected them, and in some ways it had made their bond stronger than before. S'chn was sure his Sa'mehk was putting in the effort, of course while he was in the hospital he was free to go though his OCD motions by himself as he saw fit. So, when he woke up and checked himself out of the hospital he was not happy. He wanted the walk back to that desert more than anything but he had this sense of impending doom. He was worried. He told himself, that Sa'mehks illness would lead to mothers and they’d never get another word, he told himself. On the way through the city he was stopped. Six children each taller than he was.  
“Oh, would you look at that, it’s little half-breed.” A boy with no teeth, yet somehow still the leader of this small tribe talked and squeaked as the flock around him blocked his exists.  
“Oh, and would you look at that, its big Titty boy.”  
“Rude.” squawked the blonde boy with the two foot nose, Pelican boy.  
“Huhuh you clearly haven’t done the maths. I doubt he can count.” huffed the muscular Gorilla boy.  
“I think we should teach him a lesson” said Titty boy who lacked charisma alongside his teeth.  
“You got me, you win, I’ll be in school next week beat me up then. You can schedule it in.”  
“Why not just beat you up now?” Titty boy gruntled.  
“I’ve been in hospital all week? My appendix exploded or something, you punch me now and I’m going to straight up start bleeding to death.”  
“I don’t like the sight of blood” Gorilla boy snuffed.  
“Why are you in this gang” Titty boy yelled and the Pelican gave a slight smile (an all out laugh).  
“We can open him up real easy” said Creeper boy who blocked his escape, he took a deep sweaty breath “we can stuff him.”  
S'chn’s mouth hung open as he experienced a completely new kind of horror, his mouth gaping in exactly the same way as the other boys.  
“Just beat the shit out of me.” Spock suggested.  
“You know what Spock, thats so creepy, I’m actually going to go ahead and apologise to you for it in the human manner.” Titty boy said.  
“We can do it” Creeper insisted.  
“Shut up!” Titty boy yelled trying to swat away his triggered trauma at the side of vision “you little freak. Spock get out of here, I’ll catch you next week, then your free game.” Spock took the opening to go immediately, second chances at these things don’t exist, but he mover cautiously, afraid they’d turn and use this as an opportunity to hunt him down. His concern isn’t needed. He turns back to glance over his shoulder as he watches the gangs conversation with Creeper quickly turn to violence, and he watches six boys punch him, like they had him. And he’s running.

For a long time the flat had been a danger, before he’d entered he’d be tense, he’d peak through the keyhole and guess the damage before deciding to head in at night, he’d try and hold his breath and not breathe in the heavy second hand smoke and he’d lock his bedroom door. It didn’t need to be locked he had no doubt he was safe as soon as he was in his room, but it felt good to control the scenario, to force it to stop. There was no anxiety today about heading in, no stoping to check through windows no covering his face, he walked in without hesitation a book still in his arms as he for the first time he finally started think about getting his brother out of prison whilst also obeying the law. A quick glance to the empty front-room, and Spock guessed his would Sa'mehk be in his office finishing paperwork so he walked without hesitation into the office - almost stepped straight on his Sa'mehk laying on the floor his arms out and eyes closed.   
“Hs” he gasps dropping the book both hands slam across his mouth.The book bounces off his Sa'mehk's arm and onto the floor. He lays motionless. There’s nothing left in him, his eyes open, he’s been dead a while. He’s just shaking his head and pressing his mouth further into his hands. He falls to his knees tears quickly forming and leaving. There is a knife, his own knife his brother had made for straight through his Sa'mehks heart, theres blood on the floor and now he notices his knees are in it. He is cold to the bone, and shaking as he puts one hand out to check for a pulse, but he touches only the corpse.

He kneels for twenty minutes until he begins to think again, to think about the police and calling, but that wouldn’t help him, if he did that surely he’d end up in prison too? His knife… He was being… framed. Someone had done this to frame him? But why? What had he ever done, what could he do, what was he doing. Of course, he was, would and could do a lot. He doesn’t have time to spare. He must go within the hour if he’s to get out on time. Eating should surly be the last thing on his mind, with his dead Sa'mehk on the floor, but if he was to survive this walk, he needed food now. He opens up the freezer. He pulls the veggie burgers and messily throws them all into a pan with all the chips he could manage. They go straight in the over, and the he’s running to his room.

He’s fast at getting what he needs but if he’s ever to get out of this alive he has to think in doubles. He has to think bigger, and better. He’s pulling his brand new hiking bag out from under his bed, the one his brother brought him, and he’s combining his old and new bottles together. He’s taking the first aid kit from the bathroom, he’s taking the sewing kit, he’s taking his tiny folded up sleeping bag and travel towel (more gifts from brother.) He’s searching through the cupboards pulling out bags of dried beans, and fruit. He’s pulling his knife from Sa'mehks body and cleaning it up and holstering it. He changes to his gym clothes, and he puts on his city trainers. He’s searching through Sa'mehks office and then he’s stopped. Staring at him from across the hallway, is a cat, with a fluffy white and orange coat. The cat walks over to him and he is terrified.  
“Good evening Master Spock.”  
Spock frowns “Daisy?”  
“Yes Master?” The cats says. He checks the charging station, it’s empty, but why would Sa'mehk give the cat a new coat? Then he’s over come with fear.  
“Did you call the police?” He asks, sweat dripping from his forehead.  
“No. I was not allowed to call the police for Sa'mehk. He has forgetful disease. Then Spocks are light up with the first good idea in decades.  
“Did you see who he was talking to him last?”  
“Yes”   
“Who?” He almost screams.  
“That face is not in my database.”  
“W- well what about, on April 5th, did you see Sybok and Mom interacting?”  
“Yes.”  
“Did Sybok stab Mom?”  
“I do not understand the question.” Spock put his hands up to his mouth in a prayer form.  
“Who was the last person my Mother interacted with on April 5th?”  
“The policeman.”  
“Before him.”  
“The policeman”  
“Before him.”  
“Sybok.”  
“Before him.”  
“Sebastian Ian.”


	11. Silence is screaming.

Chapter 11  
Silence is screaming.

He knocks at the window. The window opens, as Sebastian peaks out, to the boy with big black eyes.  
“Let me in.”  
“Why? Hey are you heading into the desert again.”  
“Not if you let me stay the night.”  
“Uhh, huh no way. My parents stomp in all times of the day, if they find you in here they’ll beat the shit out of you too. Spock you can’t be serious, how long have you been out of hospital?”  
“Grab your bag, some extra pants and change into gym clothes. You’re coming to the desert with me.”  
“Mmm.”  
“Sebastian.” Spock said and made solid eye contact “this is your last chance. It’s mine as well but I owe you so I’ll let you choose. Come with me or don’t.”

When they left it was the late afternoon, it was a good time to walk, although it did begin with the sizzling heat it would only get cooler from here. Sand dunes endless sky. The second it reached midnight Spock’s soul jumped from his body, into the sand and then back again. He placed his bag on the ground.  
“Thank god we’re stopping already” Sebastian sighed “this might be easier than I thought.”  
“No, but we’re far enough I can talk to you now” Spock said cracking out his water.  
“Talk about what?”   
“The man who murdered my Sa'mehk.”  
“What?”  
“My Dads dead you stupid arsehole! They’re trying to frame me.”  
“Shit. Wait, are people going to think I have something to do with it?”  
“No. No, Sebastian I wouldn’t do that to you. I have a plan.”  
“I don’t want to kill-”  
“I have my Sa'mehks death recorded.”  
Sebastian gasps “ that does change everything.”  
“We’ve still got a lot of work but, I think we can change everything. You know we can’t go on much longer, things have only every gotten worse, in twenty years it won’t just be 15% of school kids going doing with something they’ve done. It’ll by 50% if not more, and I don’t think we’re survive that.”  
“Oh, I was really just hoping the adults there would sort it out themselves, whatever we’re going to do could kill me sooner.”  
“Is there a difference between now and later.”  
“I don’t want to deal with later.”  
“You never will.” Spock said and he nods. Spock pulls out his lunch box and offers him a bean burger.  
“I need to tell you something, while we’re out here. I Spock.. I killed you Mother.” Sebastian said and he watches and inspects his face “she was really going after Sybok. She found out what you two were planning, and she started yelling and she started saying how she was going to kill him to protect you from getting drawn into the action. She tried to slash his throat out with the knife, and he tried to get the knife from her, and I could tell Sybok was going to die. Sybok. He means so much to so many people, and afterwards your mother would go to prison for it anyway, if not the scientists would take her by force. So I stabbed her. Its not like I ran away. Or that I tried to frame Sybok. I stood there I said I’d admit to it, that I’d tell the truth. But he just said something about fingerprints and he wiped mine from the knife. He told me it would be fine. That even if they sort of knew it was me, there wasn’t enough proof to prove it, he wouldn’t say it was me. I don’t know. I don’t know why he has turned me in.”  
“Oh, a change of heart Sebastian? Or a lie because I have the evidence to get my brother out of prison?”  
“Spock-”  
“Sebastian, I forgive you.”  
“What?”  
“Yeah,I watched that day back-”  
“I don’t want to see it-”  
“And its like you describe, she was in a fit, and she really could have killed Sybok. Although, I’m also pretty sure, another five minutes and she’d collapsed and died herself.”  
“Whys that?”  
“Oh, her face was all red, her blood medication at this point hadn’t been working for days. I mean, Sebastian I’m pissed, I hate you. But I’m also glad I still have a brother thats alive.”  
“You going to turn me in?”  
“No.”

They sit in silence and chew on their dry bean burgers, between gulps of water. Spock opens up a can of peaches and offers one to his friend.  
“So who killed you Sa'mehk? It’s not like you’ve even attempted to do anything since your brothers been in prison. I don’t see why this would happen.”  
“It’s not because they were interested in me” Spock said slowly “in fact with the new news, I don’t think the government was even slightly on to us. My Sa'mehk was going to tell me something… and he did.”  
Sebastian’s eyes go wide “what did he say?” Spock pulls out a tablet from his bag.  
“That works here?” Sebastian asked surprised.  
“Yes. But only here.”

Sarek knew that change came with little steps, little thoughts and subtle ideas. He had been working for the government for fifteen years, now and he left less then subtle ideas everywhere he went, he wasn’t high up he was just a paper work man so he had no special treatment but a slightly more than minimum pay check. It was enough to pay for a flat out of the city where the pollutants they pour on citizens would be less, but even that had been futile in saving his family. He turned on his computer. There was a way he could do this, to show who's greed it had all been for, because he had it, years of skulking in the shadows and being just another man had gained him it, the evidence to prove it, that this government was evil, enough to throw them from power enough to put them in prison. Of course, it was better than that because one government in prison has never stopped another from rising and taking what is so easy to grab, it was enough to completely shut the companies down. Op3 who claimed to specialised in Genetically Modify Food, for the people, but who truly specialised in chemical warfare. There was no better way to poison a population then to have themselves poisoned. It was a slow process, that would occasionally bring an illness, a cancer, or deliriatrix a brain disease which effects the mood and memory to extremes. That was what his wife suffered with. Then there was Med-Zen, a medical company that worked in secret with Op3 to create cures for the so called diseases, and charge unearthly prices for medicines made purposely to never work permanently, they’d fund Op3 for new illnesses when they found cures. How else could they call for endless donations. Then there was CyberKitty, named after their first invention they were originally created as a computer assistant with mild companion ability. The first model, the one he had, it came up just after the new cyber laws, before they found the loops holes. All modern technology was connected to CyberKitty, before then rumours of these were always thrown around, but now days few could speak out of them. Or they were to afraid to do so. Those who speak out become ill or they are arrested. Accidents happen in prison, oh god, just like what had happened to his son.

He hunts through a draw and pulls out a spare fur coat for Daisy to cloth her naked robotics. He closes a draw and spins around to the cat.  
“Come here Daisy” He calls, and the cat gets closer. He puts the fur across her robot body and picks her up.  
“Look here” he points at the computer screen and quickly scrolls past all the evidence on his computer. He sends a email full of attachments, and places a USB deep within the cats fur.  
“Resume your duty Daisy.” He places her down and turns on the radio. The sound of the best rock songs to have ever graced the planets ears touch him. Songs that made his heart sing, songs he could die to. When it happens it’s a man, tall dressed in a suit, his hair parted down the middle. Sa'mehk does stand as he enters the room.  
“Sarek.” The man says his name long, angry and low, disappointed too.  
“S’omas Seek, what a surprise to see you here so early, and by yourself no less. I won’t lie, I thought you’d send someone else.”  
“Sarek, we’ve been friends for years you know what goes on, you know you can’t get away with it. Why did you try to do this?”  
“The government experimented on my wife, and is trying to kill both my sons with their stupid greed. Those ignorant evil pig” he yells “how can you even bare to live with yourself?”  
“With lots of money. Now don’t yell Sarek, I want to work this out with you” the man says sternly like he’s schooling a child “we aren’t the government we’re just a whole bunch of corporation working together for a similar goal. Money really” he says and bites his lip with a nod.  
“Are you not what you create? You have brought out every voice, for gods sake you brought out the building, nothing goes through the law that you don’t have a say about.”  
“Ohh, Sarek! When you put it like that” he shrugs and laughs “but thats capitalism, it’s the goal of the game, as much money, as much as possible no matter who what where and when. You know compared to me you are just a peasant. That’s why your wife never got better that’s why your son got ill. Jesus have you seen him? You can’t tell him from the homeless it’s fucking disgusting.”  
“My son is an adventurer! And a far kinder, braver and stronger person than you’ll ever be.”  
“Oh he’s an adventurer is he, oooooh” he waves his hand like a magician “what’d he discover out in the desert? More sand, oh christ be on me, I’d never have thought there was sand in the desert.”  
“If your so smart then what will you do when all these filthy peasants you speak of die?”  
“Oh, you petite little fool, don’t you see? It never ends. When they’ll all gone there will be a new poor, millionaires will be the new poor race, and if we run out of humans we’re just make more, and if we run out of planet, we’re just get more. It’s fun don’t you see? You can’ be a sore loser” he says and takes a knife from behind him and twirls it around his fingers “and your not good enough to go on. If only you had an extra twenty in your bank. Your human decency really isn’t touching me.”  
“But your not playing by the rules” Sarek said “the rules were you don’t kill, you don’t use slavery, spread illness or invade peoples privacy just to brainwash them. We are not a capitalism only system, we have laws and rules. Thats what puts you against me. If I cheated if I had stole from my neighbours, if I killed my relatives I could easily have half of what you have.”  
“Yet you don’t.”  
“Because I’m not a psychopath, because the police will arrest me. I don’t live in a war torn country, I don’t want my son to live in a world where every second he has to fear for his life because some asshole took out life insurance on him, or because someone wants to work him to death, so they can scream and cry they’re so much richer than I! They can suck my balls you can suck my dick and balls. Do you want your children to fear for their life, of picking up some colleagues poisoned disease, and having to spend everything they’ve ever had for a cure?”  
“Oh that won’t happen to me” scoffed the man “although perhaps anyone I employ, but I’m at the top you see, and every second I gain more than you’d earn in a life time. This whole building? It’s a toy I could burn it without a second thought. And you know why?”  
“Because your rich” Sarek spat, and he stood up “because your evil and a psychopath and everyone that supports you is either and idiot or psychopath or both. Those who aren’t you’ve crushed beneath you thumb and your already milking them for more, milking them for little propaganda cries that say, no oh no, please give me your life threatening disease.”  
“I’m sorry” he laughs “are you trying to offend me because this is music to my ears.”  
“I hope you live through all of this, I hope we see you begging on the streets, but I don’t need to personally, so go on and stab me you coward. I know your afraid of everything that isn’t yours, of things you can’t touch and don’t understand of things you don’t profit from, oh I know your afraid of the reality” he says walking forward and claps his hand up to each of the other mans cheeks “oh you tiny little man.”  
Sarek gulps, as his breath struggles, as the man backs away from the blade he put deep in his heart.  
“Oh to see reason” Sarek says but he’s still standing.  
“Oh come now, don’t you recognise that? Thats your sons blade. Shh, shh I know. But it’s for poetry you see, Sybok took his mothers life - actually I don’t who did that. It wasn’t him but I don’t care, and then his brother took his Fathers life. Oh what a pair they’ll make in this just gorgeous prison accident I’m planning”  
“I fucked your wife.” Sarek says and falls down dead.  
“What?!” He yells but Sarek is dead.  
“Wake up you stupid bastard” he yells turning him over to slap his face, but he’s gone with a face of peace.  
“Shit! Fuck!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no ones liked this but, i think its ok maybe. i guess maybe the characters are bad, but consider this. Your not even at the cool part yet. wait is that... bad?


End file.
